


The End of One Life

by georgiou



Series: The Spectre [1]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012), DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Character Turned Into a Ghost, Future Fic, Gen, Metahumans, Murder, Prequel, Violence, tw: mention of rape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-20
Updated: 2018-10-20
Packaged: 2019-08-04 21:29:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16354619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/georgiou/pseuds/georgiou
Summary: After 19 years of a normal and boring life, the universe decided you were better off dead. The thing is, you could still see everyone else, like you just turned invisible. This is an origin story—your origin story, but frankly? Being a ghost sucked and you were determined to find a way to bring yourself back to life... no matter the cost.





	The End of One Life

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: The setting of this story is all owned by CW.
> 
> This is going to be the prequel to a story I have started about the reader in Starling City but I won't give away any spoilers.
> 
> Enjoy!

You’re a metahuman that goes by the name _Spectre de Mort._ Yeah, it’s a mouthful so Spectre for short.

It started when you were born, really. You almost died in the womb but because of some good luck, you survived… but your mother died in your place. The thing that makes you different from every other child whose mother died in childbirth is that you were born the exact same moment that the particle accelerator of Central City exploded.

Absolutely nothing interesting happened in your life. You went to school, made friends, learned karate with your guy friends, had sleepovers with your girl friends. You were perfectly, one-hundred-and-ten-percent average, well maybe above average in school but that’s besides the point.

Then you turned 19.

You had no idea why 19 was the magic year, but 7:57 p.m. on December 11th, 2032, you died again. First you thought it was all just an elaborate ‘pretend-she’s-invisible’ prank, but when your dad filled out a missing persons report with the CCPD and your friends wept in your absence, you figured this was your new reality.

Next, you thought you were actually invisible and you tried everything possible to reappear but nothing worked. Then you discovered that you could walk through furniture, walls—any form of matter, to be exact.

It felt like the grim reaper or a god or the devil decided to play a big trick on you. Sparing your life as an infant, allowing you to live a regular life for 19 years, then suddenly killing you again but forcing you to remain a ghost amongst the living.

You lived this way for over three years with no change… until something did change. You were strolling through an alleyway at night, what did an appairation have to be afraid of after all? When you witnessed a burly young man corner a young woman against the wall. You couldn’t watch this, but at the same time, you couldn’t just walk away when you knew an innocent woman was about to be robbed, raped, and possibly even killed.

You turned yourself around, grabbed a metal rod from off the ground, and whacked the attacker on the back of his head as hard as you could. The woman ran away the moment her assailant’s grip slacked. She was gone before the body collided with the pavement and it was a good thing, too, because the moment that man’s heart stopped beating, yours started again. You could feel yourself flicker back into existence. Finally!

You started sprinting towards home. It felt so good to inhale the brisk autumn air, shiver at the layer of sweat that accumulated on your brow, feel the burn in your lungs and the beginning of an ache in your side from running. They were not the most pleasant sensations but they were _real_. It was the first thing you felt in years and all because you murdered an assaulter.

Being a ghost for over 3 years had its advantages. You could walk anywhere without having to worry about other people, objects, or walls getting in your way. You got used to it. And before you knew it, a very real, very solid truck was slamming into your side and throwing you into the air. You crash-landed into the pavement and your head hitting the ground with a sickening crack.

The truck driver had pulled over immediately and searched the area surrounding his truck only to find nothing. I was back in ghost form.

Well, shit.

Your hopes of returning to your life were crushed yet again and all because you were too eager to just slow down and use your common sense: humans didn’t just pass through objects.

You had nowhere to go so you ambled back to the alley with your head bowed. You had to recreate this moment somehow, you needed to turn back time and learn what you did so you could become visible again.

 

After another 8 months of denial. You accepted your fate. In order to live, you had to kill. Just like when you were born, you lived in exchange for another’s death. You attempted to just be around someone dying, touch them when they died, and so on but nothing seemed to work. _You_ had to be the cause of death.

For some, it would have been an extremely tough and ethically exhausting decision. Would you become a murderer just stay alive, even if you only ended the life of a criminal? You have lived for almost 4 years without a soul acknowledging you, one of those years you deliberately spent watching people die. The choice was obvious to you.

You could have chosen to unplug a dying patient in a hospital, or deliver the final push to someone on the brink of death, but frankly? You didn’t want to. There were people on this Earth that deserved nothing better than death, but were protected by the law against murder. That’s where your invisibility would come in handy.

You lurked along the run-down streets in the worst part of town. You were sure to find some criminal fit for an execution around there, and sure enough there was.

An elder man was bravely working the night shift at the corner gas bar when a masked figure pulled a knife on him and demanded all the cash in te register. You effortlessly walked through the glass siding and relieved the would-be assailant of their weapon.

In their confusion, you slowly sauntered around them, invisibly taunting them, before ripping the ski mask off their head—or should you say, _her_ head. It was a girl around 18 with heavy makeup and a cheap perfume to mask the stench of cigarette smoke. Troubled teen?

“Please, whoever you are, I’ll leave I swear! It was just for some fun, I wasn’t actually gonna kill the old man!” she pleaded, looking up frantically in each direction.

Maybe when you were alive—when you could feel and empathize with her—maybe you’d take her at her word. But the thing is, you weren’t alive and you didn’t care about this negligent person.

You did, however, care about the cameras that had eyes on every inch of the store. You couldn’t kill her here only to reappear and get sent to prison. That was not an option.

You grabbed the back of her black hoodie and dragged her behind the gas station. You realized that you were hardly better than the man in the alleyway. Sure, you had an actual motive and you were going to kill her swiftly without assaulting her beforehand, but it was still murder. Whatever.

You knew you would do what needed to be done so you held the girl against the wall and shoved her own blade as far as you could into her heart. She cried and sputtered, coughing up crimson blood onto her increasingly pale face. As the life was drained out of her, your bones lit up, your neurons started firing, your heart began a steady rumba… and the warm blood trickled down your arm. Oddly, the gruesome sensation didn’t disgust you.

With the regain of your lifeforce, you unfortunately regained your emotions, little by little. You peered down at the girl who was slumped on the ground, head lolled to one side and a permanent look of fright in her eyes. This kill. This wasn’t like the man in the alley that would have continued to plunder innocents if you let him live. No, this was because of a mistake by a teenager. A dishonourable kill… you’d have to get used to those as well, then.

You knew the store clerk must have called the police and they would be on their way right now, but you had to know this girl’s name. You reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone. She had a case with a spot for a few cards, one of which was her licence. After discovering her name, you wiped the phone in her jacket, smashed it on the ground, and started running. This time, you were fully aware that you could not pass through solid matter anymore.

Shedding off your jacket, you found an alley with a water tap, dumped your bloodied outerwear in the dumpster and rinsed off your hand in the leaking tap. You killed but now you’re alive. Inexplicably, you felt more alive then you can remember feeling, even before you turned 19.

 

It was past 2 a.m. but you followed the familiar path to your old house. Only your dad lived there now. Following your disappearance, he blamed himself and started drowning his sorrows at the bottom of a bottle. He was laid off and eventually let go from his job and now his days consisted of sleeping on the couch with a bottle of beer in one hand and the t.v. remote in the other. You stopped checking up on him everyday because it was just too damn depressing.

Now, you stood across the road from your childhood home that you haven’t entered in months, years for your corporeal form. Showing up at the doorstep only to die and disappear again could kill your father and you didn’t know if that was a chance you wanted to take. He was probably passed out drunk anyways, you reasoned. You could just see him once and he’d pass it off as a hallucination from the alcohol.

You crossed the road and stood in front of the door, connecting your knuckles with the door in a slow and deliberate movement. After several minutes of waiting, you assumed your prediction was correct and he was already passed out. Turning the doorknob, you eased the door open and slipped inside.

It was strange. You had been in your house multiple times since you died but this time was different. This time, there was a faint scent of _home_ , a lingering vanilla fragrance and a pang in your chest to accompany it.

Leisurely making your way to the front room, you got your first glimpse of your father and a wave of grief washed over you. His head was lolled to the side not unlike the girl from the gas station, but you were consciously aware that he was only asleep. His breathy snores hit your ears at the same time as the stench of alcohol. A bottle that was previously clutched in your father’s grip had tipped onto the carpet, soaking it in beer. The sight of your fun-loving and caring dad now so defeated and broken was enough to tear your heart in two.

You picked the bottles up off the floor and placed them on the coffee table that was already overflowing with old takeout containers and bottles from other nights. Kneeling down in front of him, you studied your dad’s face. There were more wrinkles etched deeply into his skin and dark bags under his eyes, telling you all you needed to know about how he was handling everything. Seeing him here like this, you decided that you couldn’t hurt him anymore. You had to leave and hope that time would heal him.

“Munchkin?” your dad’s gravelly voice asked. His eyes were bleary but they were very obviously staring at you in disbelief. He was the first one to actually see you since you sprinted down that fateful street nearly a year ago.

“Yeah, Dad. It’s me,” your voice cracked with emotion. Murder? Easy. Reuniting with your father? A completely different story.

“I’ve missed you so much, baby. Please don’t ever leave like that again.” Your dad pulled you into a tight embrace and tears slipped down your cheeks and onto the shoulder of his shirt. He didn’t ask what happened or where you’ve been, he just cared that you were here now.

“I’m so sorry, Dad… I’ve missed you, too. I didn’t mean to leave,” your brittle voice croaked out.

The two of you stayed like that for what felt like hours. The lack of physical contact in years put a toll on your body that you hadn’t realized until now. You’ve never felt this safe in years… or this frightened. In the back of your mind, you knew you couldn’t stay. Even if you revealed the truth to your dad and he _didn’t_ send you to a psych facility, you knew that leaving him again would be the least of his concerns. When he learned that you had murdered and probably would have to do so again just to stay alive… that you truly were the reason his wife di—was killed… he’d never be able to look at you the same.

You pulled back and met your father’s wet eyes with your own. “Dad, I need you to remember that I love you and I always will and also that… I won’t be back here again. Call it a visit from an angel in heaven or a figment of your imagination but this is the last time you’ll see me.”

Your dad started to argue but you cut him off. “I know, Dad. It sucks but I need you to do me a favour, okay?” He nodded. “I need you to move on. I’ve been watching over you these past 4 years and it hurts me to see you doing this to yourself. Dad, I beg of you, please stop drinking, go to AA meetings and a grief counsellor, get your job back or get a new job and go and live your life,” you begged. “Please do this for me. Know that seeing you living your life again, knowing that you have a chance at happiness again… it’s all I want for you.”

Your father stared at you in wonder, tears still tracing their way down his face. “Okay, sweetheart. You know I’d do anything for you. (Y/N)... you know, your mother picked out that name for you just before she went into labour. The doctors warned us that there was a high chance of complications but she didn’t care. She was so brave. All she wanted was for you to be born and live a happy life,” he reflected hoarsely.

“My life was so happy,” you knew you were speaking as if you were still dead but it was for the best. “You made me feel so safe and loved and wanted. I couldn’t have asked for a better dad than you.”

You nuzzled yourself back into your father’s arms and squeezed tightly. He held you snugly before you pulled away again. “I have to go. Just please remember what I said and never forget that I love you.”

“I love you, too, munchkin. I wish you didn’t have to go,” he confessed.

“I know. Go to sleep now and tomorrow… be your best self for me.”

You turned around and started to leave. Glancing back, you saw your father’s eyes starting to droop and decided to grab a pen and a piece of paper and write him a note.

 

_Dad,_

_I’ll love you forever._

_Take care of yourself,_

_(Y/N)_

 

Before you shut the door of your childhood home for the last time, the news channel caught your eye.

_“Following an incident almost a year ago where a woman claimed that an invisible force killed her attacker, another such crime has been committed. Camera footage caught a ghost-like entity disarming a masked person who was holding up a gas station. The assailant was revealed to be a young girl after her mask was mysteriously pulled off. The girl can then be seen being dragged out of the store where she was later found stabbed in the heart with her own knife behind the building. Local police are not certain on who or what did this but forensic experts suggest that this is a metahuman who appears as a ghost. Internet blogs are calling it ‘Spectre de Mort,’ which roughly translates to ‘Appairation of Death.’”_

 

Tony was the first. Savannah was the latest, but you doubted she would be the last.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Please leave kudos/comments <3


End file.
